


all smiles, dude

by fridgefish



Category: Hockey RPF, Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Halloween, Kissing?, M/M, There will be a happy ending, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-08 18:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fridgefish/pseuds/fridgefish
Summary: the fic where Ryan dresses as Charlie Mac for Halloween but with way too much expositionthis is all from @santachara and @bergys-nose on Tumblr -they riffed on this headcanon a bit so thanks





	1. Summer 2018

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blindbatalex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindbatalex/gifts), [cjmasim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmasim/gifts).



Really, Charlie’s never been much for weddings. During most of the weddings he’s attended, he’s dozed through the ceremony only to be at the front of the line to get food. He might get in on the dancing, too, if he could get a little alcohol. This was Noel’s wedding, though, so he was determined to be a good citizen and try to feel some kind of emotion during the vows for his teammate. He was glad to have Ryan as his “plus-one” even though he wasn’t even that- they just both didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding a real plus one, and they may as well ride together. 

“Look, we need to get there early so we can get a good seat,” Ryan had instructed him the day before. He was posted up on the couch at Charlie’s place, eating some heated up pasta with his feet tucked under him. Charlie didn’t look at the way his shorts were tight around his thighs, no sir.

“A good seat? Ryan, this isn’t a musical.” Charlie rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think the good seats should be left for, I don’t know, their actual family?”

“The team is family, Chuck.”

Charlie scoffed a bit, thinking Ryan was being facetious, but he was staring at him in all seriousness.

“Okay. I’ll pick you up at four.”

 

Maybe he was a little excited for this wedding. Charlie made it to Ryan’s place a whole twenty minutes earlier than he said he would, so he had to drive slowly around the neighborhood a few times until it was five minutes before. Ryan probably was ready at three, just because that’s how he was when he was excited. He jumped in the passenger seat with a grin. He had on this grey suit with a maroon tie, and it looked sharp. Charlie told him so just to see him grin again. 

To have been as serious as he was about being at the venue in a timely manner, Ryan sure was a lot of fun to have around during all the obligatory mingling and sitting and waiting. The moment things started to get boring, Ryan nudged Charlie and held out his program, with his thumbs covering someone’s name so that the only letters you could see was “ass.”

“It was really nice of Noel to put your name in the program,” he deadpanned.

“Yeah? Well uh,” Charlie plucked up his program and scanned it, looking for some hidden vulgar word. It took him too long-- Ryan burst into laughter before he could make anything happen. Was he fucking giggling?

“You need a-” he couldn’t quite finish because of how funny he thought this was, “you need a Harvard education for that level of humor, I guess.”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up.” Some part of Charlie wanted to be annoyed, but Ryan’s laugh was contagious. And then the organ started to play.

 

Nothing really was funny at this point, but the way that Ryan suddenly sucked in and stood up straight and tried to put on a serious face when the first notes of the processional began was an absolute fucking sight. Charlie made somewhat of a snort to try to stifle his chuckle, and of course Ryan heard that and figured out what was going on. This was not going to end well.

Now it was just funny that they were being funny. Noel and Kate were up at the altar saying their vows, and it was as if Ryan was on some sort of hair trigger for laughter. Charlie could poke the outside seam of Ryan’s suit pants with the side of his thumb, or accidentally scrape his shoe on the floor, or shift in his seat funny, and Ryan would suddenly get red in the face with contained hilarity. It was an honest to god miracle that the two of them made it through the ceremony without laughing aloud. So much for resolving to feel emotional at his friend’s life commitment. Oh well.

The moment the bridal party left, Ryan turned to Charlie. “I can’t believe you, messing with me the whole time! What if I would’ve actually laughed out loud, do you think Acciari would’ve killed me?” He looked like he wanted to be mad but was failing miserably.

“Which one, Mr. or Mrs.?” Charlie plucked a piece of lint from Ryan’s lapel as they walked to the reception area. “Well, either way, the answer is yes.”

 

Now Charlie’s got Ryan in his passenger seat taking him home. They’ve both lost their ties, and Charlie’s checkered shirt hangs open a couple buttons more than usual. They had danced like the world was ending. Every line dance, every overplayed song-- Ryan’s eyes would grow wide at the first few notes of the Cupid Shuffle like it wasn’t the thousandth time he’d heard that song and Charlie forgot he was too cool for that kind of thing. He looked over, and in the glow of the passing streetlights Ryan’s cheeks were pleasantly rosy after a few drinks. He’s telling some story that has Charlie laughing as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. When was the last time he felt like this? His shoulders felt light. Ryan was absentmindedly fiddling with Charlie’s bracelet on the wrist that rested on the center console, and that kind of gentle attention made everything seem very real. 

The car ride felt way too short.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Charlie offered, in a way he hoped seemed very nonchalant and normal.  
“I’m not drunk, you know,” Ryan returned, his smile brilliant. “But thanks, I guess.”

Charlie stood with his hands in his pockets as Ryan unlocked the front door. He turned back to look at him, silent. There was a beat that neither of them moved, just enough to make the tension so much more realized.

“Charlie.” He took one step into the foyer and cleared his throat. “Let me give you some gas money,” Ryan said, as if they were high schoolers.

Charlie wasn’t quite sure what this was all about.

“What? I don’t need gas money, are you kidding?”

“Charlie.”

Charlie stepped into the foyer and shut the door behind him.

“Is everything okay?” Maybe Ryan was having some kind of problem. He wasn’t great at advice, but he could-

“I had a nice time with you tonight.” Ryan’s face was still bright red. Oh.

“Oh, yeah, I did too. Thanks for going with me.” Charlie finally took his hands out of his pockets and pulled him into a hug. That was good. That’s what he had been craving and didn’t even know it. Ryan held him tight, his nose pushing against his neck.

Ryan pulled back first.

“Charlie.”

Charlie swallowed. “What, man?” It came out rough, but Ryan saw right through him. He put a hand on his face, his thumb resting on Charlie’s cheekbone.

“Do you want this?”

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move, or think, or breathe, or

“Yeah,” he said, a little more breathless than he would’ve liked.

Ryan kissed him, with intent but tenderly. He stopped to breathe after a few minutes, and started laughing again.

“Oh my god, stop,” Charlie was cracking up, too. “Stop, I’m not done!” He chased after Ryan’s mouth with his own, and pressed their smiles together.


	2. 2012

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> patrice remembers what it feels like to have velcro shoes and what it feels like to disappoint no matter what you do
> 
> whoops this was really angsty! uhhhh
> 
> dont worry I swear the next chapter will be back to our regularly scheduled smiles

“Patrice?” His trainer tapped his shoulder, her voice softer than usual.

He stepped off of the scale, startled out of his frozen position, completely zoned out. 

He lifted his eyebrows because a genuine smile was too far away. “Hm?” 

“Uh, you’re still losing a little weight. Have you been eating right? Everything feel okay?” She went back to her clipboard and was scribbling professionally, but the slight crease in between her eyebrows gave her concern away. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just need to eat a little more, I think.” He picked up his bag and began walking away, but not before adding, “Thanks for worrying about me, Andrea.”

*****

Two weeks earlier, Patrice was told he needed to go and meet with Coach Julien after practice. He was expecting to just have a few words in the hallway, but Claude stopped him and asked to see him in his office. As he trailed him back to his office, Patrice suddenly had the strange feeling of being nine years old and hearing the sound of his own sneakers plod down linoleum tile as he trudged to the principal's office at his elementary school. 

“You want to be good, don’t you, Patrice?” the principal had said, “Rendre ta mère fière? Oui?” 

“Oui,” his voice wavering, “Je suis désolé.” 

He snapped back from his memory with the squeaking of leather as Claude leaned back in his desk chair.

“How ya doing, Bergy? Nice to be back on the ice as a Stanley cup champion, eh?” Claude was looking at him with his lips pursed and his eyes squinted.

“Yes, can I ask what this is all about?” Surely he wasn’t being disciplined for something, or traded- he couldn’t even think about it. 

Claude cleared his throat and swallowed. 

“Listen, Bergy,” he paused and considered. “You’re committed to this organization, aren’t you?”

Patrice was shocked. “Of course, sir, you know that.” 

“Then can I be blunt with you?”

“Please.”

Claude broke eye contact to pick up a pen on his desk and roll the cap between his fingers. “I know the way that Brad feels about you. That’s alright. Now-” Patrice had opened his mouth to refute- “now don’t deny it, Patrice. Don’t.” He sighed suddenly, as if he were very tired, and then continued with renewed furor, “That’s natural. That happens sometimes, when you spend a lot of time together with someone. You two won a cup together, that’s very special, you know?”

He waited until Patrice nodded.

“But here’s the thing. That’s what it is. It’s like, hero worship. You’re his hero! That’s a great compliment.” Claude tapped the pen on the desk. “And you wouldn’t want to somehow take advantage of that, would you?”

“Um,” Patrice’s voice came out scratchy. “Uh, no, I wouldn’t.”

“You’re his role model, you’ve been showing him the ropes. That’s great. But that’s all it is, right?” Claude leaned forward and resumed eye contact with him. “You wouldn’t want Marchy to get the wrong idea.”

“Right.”

“And I know you want to make this organization proud.”

“Yes. I do.”

“Then make us proud. You do. I just need to trust that you won’t let this get out of hand. For both of your sakes. You understand what I’m saying here?”

“...Yes.” 

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Go get some rest.”

 

*****

Two nights later, Patrice found himself at a new burger joint with Marchy, Seguin, and Lucic. It’d been a nice night, nothing too wild, just eating and talking, but Patrice was about ready to head out. 

“Look,” Brad laughed, nudging Patrice with his elbow, “if you’re still hungry.” His thumbs covered the word ‘Grass-fed’ so that all you could see was ‘ass.’ 

“The genius of your humor is astounding, Marchy,” Tyler answered before he could.

Patrice could only roll his eyes. Claude’s words were still so fresh in the back of his mind, it forced him to second guess and over analyze every move he made around Brad. Every joke or comment he wanted to make seemed better left unsaid. It was only a matter of time before Marchy noticed his change in behavior. 

“Guys, I’m pretty tired. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Patrice tucked a large bill underneath his cup and tried to go ahead and get out of the doors before Brad could smile up at him anymore.

“Wait! Bergy!” 

Patrice turned around, and as sure as the sun shines, Brad had already caught up with him.

“Would you mind giving me a ride home? I don’t think I should drive since I’ve been drinking.” Brad asked, very convincingly. 

“Marchy, you haven’t even had half a pint.” Patrice’s resolve was non-existent. “But I suppose it’s better safe than sorry.”

Brad slung an arm around his shoulders, reaching up a little on his toes to make it happen. “Thanks, buddy.”

 

The car ride felt way too long.

Brad was chattering on about something, eyes on him the entire time instead of looking out at the road. His stories were wild and entertaining- he was currently in the middle of some tale about an experience during a hunting trip- and Patrice was pretty sure half of it had to be made up. He couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed, though.

Brad looked at him with such openness. It killed him. “Would you walk me to the door? My porch light is out, I don’t want to have to go in in the dark by myself.”

“Oh, now you’re too drunk to get the door open by yourself?” Patrice cracked a smile in spite of himself. “I see how it is.”

“I’m not even.” Brad called back, halfway to his front door.

Patrice stood with his hands in his pockets as Brad unlocked the front door. He turned back to look at him, silent. There was a beat that neither of them moved, just enough to make the tension so much more realized.

“Bergy.” He took one step into the foyer and cleared his throat. “Let me give you some gas money,” Brad said, as if they were high schoolers.

Patrice was desperately hoping this was not what he thought it was about. 

“What? I don’t need gas money, are you kidding?”

“Bergy.”

Patrice stepped into the foyer and shut the door behind him.

“Look, Marchy,-”

“-I had a nice time tonight,” Brad cut him off, the tips of his ears flaming red. 

“Oh, yeah, I did too. Thanks for going with me.” Patrice finally took his hands out of his pockets and pulled him into a hug. That was good. But this was already more than he should’ve allowed. Brad held him tight, his nose pushing against his neck.

Brad pulled back first.

“Bergy.”

Patrice swallowed. “What, man?” It came out rough, and he meant it. He desperately willed Brad not to say anything else.

Brad put a hand on his face, his thumb resting on Patrice’s cheekbone.

“Do you want this?”

Patrice reached up and pulled it off.

“No.” But his face said it all.

Brad’s soft confession turned to flames in an instant. “You asshole. You motherfucking asshole. You can’t lie to me. I know you.”

He was so upset it almost frightened Patrice. It did frighten him.

“You can’t lie to me. I know you want this. Don’t act like this is-” he swallowed thickly, “-don’t act like this isn’t what you want. Don’t act like you haven’t been thinking about this since-”

Patrice could only shake his head. “I’m sorry. I’m not lying.” He stared at the spot between Brad’s eyebrows, not daring to look into his eyes.

“Patrice-” Brad’s voice broke, and the sound of his name shattered Patrice’s heart.

“Brad. You’re drunk. You should go to sleep.” 

Patrice was shocked at the calm tone of his own voice. It sounded very far away.

“Drunk?! I’m not drunk! You know I’m not-” Brad was beside himself. “You asshole. Get out of my house. I can’t deal with this.”

He opened the front door and motioned for Patrice to step out. 

In the light of the foyer, he could see the tears in Patrice’s eyes, but when he stepped onto the porch, his face was obscured by darkness.

Of course, Brad could never stay mad at Patrice. And Patrice never loved him more than that first practice after that awful night, when Brad took his place beside him and smiled like old times.

 

Patrice convinced himself that Brad understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a guy sure does love his parallels 
> 
> thanks for reading


	3. halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mega marshmallows

“Seriously? You’d go as McAvoy and not me?” Brad stuck his bottom lip out and sniffed. “I’m hurt.”

The boys were standing around in a back hallway, waiting for their next thing to do during this pre-season media session. It was usually a pretty good time, some nice people fixed your hair and face and then they asked you silly questions. Patrice always enjoyed it in general. They’d all just had to answer questions about their Halloween costumes, and Ryan claimed that maybe he’d dress as Charlie. The team was having an absolute field day over that one.

“Yeah, man, why not? I think it’d be funny.” Ryan always laughed his way through sentences. 

Charlie was smiling ear to ear too, pushing his hair back in the way he always did when he was feeling confident and content. He tapped Patrice with the back of his hand. “What do you think, Bergy?”

“Oh yeah, for sure, I think it’d be funny,” Patrice looked around the group with a glint of challenge in his eye. “But I don’t think he’ll do it.” 

Ryan was indignant. “I’ll do it! But on one condition,” he said.

Oh boy. Whatever it was, Donato was really proud of himself for thinking this up. It was written all over his face. 

“Which is?” Patrice cautiously replied.

“Marchy has to dress as you.” 

There was a moment of silence. Patrice and Brad looked at each other with blank faces. Then Ryan, God bless him, dissolved into another fit of giggles. 

“Alright, bet.” Brad stood to give Ryan a sarcastic handshake. 

“Oh my God I can’t wait,” Charlie said, looking between the two.

By the time October came around, Patrice had all but forgotten this conversation.

******

Halloween at the Backes’ place actually sounded like something Patrice wanted to attend. 

He’d recently grown very tired of going out and partying. He really couldn’t remember the last time he’d been drunk for fun, and his bedtime seemed to be getting earlier and earlier every year. Was he getting old? Maybe a little. One thing was for sure, he wasn’t who he used to be.

The weight of responsibility hung heavy on him these days. Patrice was never sure why, but with every new guy that came in came the distinct personal feeling that it was up to him to make sure that they were able to succeed, whether rookie or not.. Each game loss weighed on him. It was always his fault, in his mind. He knew that it wasn’t true, deep down, but he wasn’t able to convince himself otherwise. But then there was Brad.

Brad, his true friend through everything. Patrice let himself believe that Brad understood. He was a permanent fixture at his side, and if Patrice would ever admit, Brad was his anchor in life. Patrice was always deep within his mind, and Brad was impulsive, physical, his being always spreading to things around him, like he couldn’t contain his own soul. He fought and he mouthed off and strummed his guitar like it was the last time he’d ever play and broke things and always made the world feel more real to Patrice when he started to feel adrift. 

David opened the door only a moment after he knocked. He must’ve been waiting right inside.

“Bergy number two! Nice costume!” Backes pulled him into a hug with a grin.

Patrice was dressed as a prince. He was proud with the way the costume turned out. It was pretty basic, just a white top and pants with a gold sash and crown. He had a plastic sword stuck through his belt, just for something a little extra. He wouldn’t have chosen this costume, necessarily, but Brad had suggested it. Well. Originally he had suggested that he be a saint.

“Ya know. Saint Patrice. That’s your name.” Brad was more than a little tipsy when he called Patrice one night a couple weeks before Halloween.

Patrice tried desperately not to be secretly pleased that Brad had decided to call him when he was drunk. “Yeah, I’m not doing that.” 

“I could make you a halo! Out of… cardboard. Yeah. It’d be a good costume, man.” He was slurring a bit. God.

“Absolutely not, Marchy.” 

“Well, then, at least be uhh… a prince. Prince Patrice. Wear a little crown.”

That didn’t sound half bad, actually. 

“Maybe. Go to sleep.”

Brad groaned. “Prince Patrice!” Then he had hung up.

Patrice was pleased that Brad had called him while drunk. And then he had felt horribly, horribly guilty.

 

“Thanks, man.” He had to stop daydreaming so much, Patrice thought to himself. “Oh!” He said in surprise as the wet nose of a rather large dog pressed into the back of his hand, his memories dissolving from the forefront of his mind.

“Come on in, most everyone’s out back. Torey’s got something going on the grill.” 

“Wait, hold up, Bergy number two?”

David chuckled. “Don’t you remember?”

When they turned the corner into the living room he remembered instantly. Shit.

There was Brad, with ‘BERGERON’ emblazoned across his shoulders, the gold 37 beneath it. He’d even gotten his sides trimmed up into a slight fade so his hair looked more like Patrice’s. All in all, it was a pretty low effort costume, but it made Patrice feel some kind of way.

Thankfully, he didn’t have much time to analyze those feelings, as Brad turned around with a screech of his name and a hug.

“You have to go see Donato, oh my fucking God it’s the funniest shit you’ll ever see in your life.”

Quite the build-up, but he wasn’t wrong. Ryan was wearing one of Charlie’s sweaters he wore frequently with a beanie. What pushed it over the edge, though, was that he was carrying around a bag of marshmallows and kept one stuffed in each cheek at all times. The effect was stupid hilarious and simultaneously uncanny. 

“Prince Patrice!” he shouted, a bit muffled. Charlie stood behind him with a hand on his shoulder, clearly amused with the entire scene unfolding before him. 

“Please don’t choke.” Charlie said to Ryan with a grin. Charlie himself was dressed as Woody from Toy Story, complete with cowboy hat. 

Patrice threw his head back and laughed. “Very well done, boys. Especially you, Donato. We’ve got to get a picture of that.”

Ryan smiled so hard, the marshmallows almost popped out of his cheeks. “Thanks, Bergy.”

Brad came up behind Patrice, crashing into him a bit so that he stumbled before throwing his arm around his shoulder. “You like my costume?” He tilted his chin up so he could look down at him through his lashes, a hint of challenge and provocation in his tone. Patrice absolutely hated when he did that. It made his heart jump.

“Well, I-”

“I am seeing twins!!” Pasta cheered as he came stomping through the back door. 

After his initial declaration, the living room was a whirlwind of costume compliments, meeting new girlfriends, shaking hands with old girlfriends and wives, and hugs from people he’d definitely hugged not that long ago. Someone handed Patrice a cupcake and he took a moment to be grateful for this little family he had. 

Sometime in the midst of this happy chaos, Brad disappeared, and then Ryan got a phone call that made him leave the room, frowning. 

Patrice found himself searching for Brad without thinking about it. 

And there he was- currently engaged in an animated conversation with Torey next to the grill. Patrice joined them there for the next hour or so, with Torey diligently checking on several steaks, fish fillets, and veggies he had going on Backes’ expensive range. They spent a while there, chatting and chirping until the food was ready. It wasn’t the most fun party he’d ever been to in his life, but Patrice was having a pleasant time. Brad and Torey were in very high spirits, and watching those two interact was entertainment in itself.

“Hey Bergy, have you seen Donato? I wanted to get a picture of us with Charlie too,” Brad asked.

“You know what, I saw him take a phone call to the side a while ago and I haven’t seen him since. Maybe I should go check on him?” Patrice took a sip of his Coke and got up.

Brad nodded. “Yeah, probably a good idea.”

“Okay, don’t eat my food while I’m gone.”

“Okay, I will eat it all.”

******

 

After some very brief searching, Patrice turned the corner and found Ryan in a side room.

He wasn’t alone, though. Ryan was on a couch with Charlie, curled so that his head rested on Charlie’s chest, and Charlie had his arm thrown around him protectively, absentmindedly stroking his back with fingers. Ryan mumbled something, and Charlie kissed him on the top of his head. They both had lost their headgear, and Charlie had taken off his cowboy vest, too. Their feet were intertwined at the ankles, and they didn’t notice Patrice at first.

“Listen, we are going to work this out. It might be hard at first,” he heard the voice of Charlie say softly.

“I know, I just-” and that was Ryan’s tenor before stopping mid-sentence as he looked up to meet Patrice’s eyes.

“Boys? What’s going on here?” Patrice heard himself say with more authority than he felt. The ocean was crashing in his ears. Charlie and Ryan? 

His brain wouldn’t finish his own questions.

“You wanna tell him?” Charlie asked Ryan. Neither guy made any effort to move.

“Well,” Ryan looked up to Patrice like he had to tell him his dog died. “They’re sending me down to Providence. Tomorrow. I know it’ll be good for me, and honestly I’m not too surprised but I’m sorry that-”

“-You know that’s not what I’m talking about, Donato.” he retorted sharply. He gestured to their bodies, still curled in on each other. “What’s all this?”

They sat up, suddenly aware of their position. Charlie looked surprised he would even mention it. 

“Well,” Charlie swallowed and set his face. “We’re dating.” 

“And how long has this been going on?” Patrice felt his whole self grow hot. He couldn’t think. Every word he said came out without his permission. 

“Since the offseason.” Charlie answered definitively. Ryan had grown uncharacteristically quiet, and his face was completely lacking its usual mirth. He tried to shift away from Charlie on the couch, but Charlie caught him with his hand and kept him so that they weren’t separated. 

Patrice took a deep breath. “You thought this was a good idea? Do you have any idea the consequences this could have if it got out?” Every fear he’d ever imagined with himself and Brad played out in technicolor in his mind’s eye, all tainted with shame and guilt. Except this time, the leading roles of his nightmares were played by Charlie and Ryan. Kids. “Do you care about this organization? About your careers? --Christ, this has already gotten out of hand-”

“First of all,” Charlie hissed, “lower your fucking voice if you’re so worried about other people knowing.” He grabbed Ryan’s hand. “Second of all, I wouldn’t have pinned you as a homophobe, ‘Prince Patrice’, but I guess you shouldn’t worship your heroes, should you?”

Patrice was speechless. Is that what he had sounded like just now?

“Lastly, yes we are careful concerning our careers, but I love Ryan and I don’t see any reason why being an athlete should stop me from being with someone I love.” Charlie said the final phrase with the shaky voice of a confessor, and one look at Ryan’s face told Patrice that this was the first time that Charlie had admitted his love. 

“Oh.” Patrice let the last six years of pining and suppression crash over him like a wave. The guilt was unbearable. Every time Brad would say a new French phrase to him and he wouldn’t even realize until later, the dumb Valentine’s stunt that left him grinning until he pushed his fingernails into the meat of his palms, when Brad first wrapped that stupid fucking rainbow tape around his stick and only Patrice knew what it really meant for him, and he always, always chose to say no to him under the guise of protecting them both.

Six years later? Was it worth it? What was the worst that could happen?

“Uh, Patrice?” Charlie said cautiously. “Look, sorry if I overstepped, you just kinda scared Ryan-”

“Chuck, I was not fucking scared what the fuck.”

“But I don’t take it back, you know, I just-”

Patrice stopped him. “No. No, you’re right. You should do what is right. I’m sorry.” The ocean receded from his mind. “Ryan, you’re going to tear it up in Providence. Let me know if I can do anything for you. Either of you.”

He turned and left before either of them could respond. Patrice had to make things right.

*****

Forty-five minutes later, Patrice found himself in almost exactly the same spot he was nearly six years prior. It’s not like he hadn’t been over to Brad’s since then, but that buzzing sense of fearful anticipation was back in full force. Brad had taken little convincing when he asked if he could drop by his place after the party. Patrice knew that his face must’ve given the depth of his emotion away.

Patrice stood with his hands in his pockets as Brad unlocked the front door. He turned back to look at him, silent. 

“Come in,” Brad said as he ushered him towards a seat and flipped the light on. “Bergy, you have me scared to death. Please tell me what’s going on.” He sat opposite him in an armchair that was very clearly ‘his chair.’

“Marchy, I know that-”

“Is it Ryan? Because I know about that.”

Patrice was beginning to wonder how many times he could be surprised in one night. “What? You know about-” 

“I mean, it didn’t surprise me too much. He’ll benefit from some time in Providence,” Brad said.

“Oh. Well. No that’s not really-”

“Did Kampfer piss you off again? Cause-”

“Would you let me speak?”

Brad realized himself. “That’s my bad. I’m all ears.”

Patrice really wasn’t sure if he could do this, and then he remembered Charlie’s words. 

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. I’ve done so many things that I’m proud of, but then there’s just so many things-” Patrice took a slow breath and collected himself. “I wanted to protect you, I wanted to protect myself, I wanted to let go of certain feelings and forget about them, and I was never able to.”

Brad’s face softened as he realized what Patrice was getting at. 

“You make me feel whole. I’m always-” God this was embarrassing, “I’m always daydreaming about the way things could be or the way things were, but when I’m with you my mind is clear because I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Patrice glanced over at Brad, who had put his face in his hands.

“All this time, I’ve done you so wrong. And you were always there, supporting me and, and caring for me, all this time that maybe we could’ve been together. If things had been different.” Okay, get to the point, Pat. “This is not me asking for you to love me, because I messed things up six years ago, and that’s on me. But this is me saying I’m sorry, for messing things up, for lying to you, for acting like you aren’t the most cherished person in my life.”

“You asshole.”

Ah, here it comes.

“You motherfucking asshole. You talk like I haven’t been loving you this entire goddamned time.” Brad stood and came to Patrice’s chair and knelt by it.

“No. No. Get up, Brad,” Patrice pulled on his shoulders and he didn’t budge, so he slid down next to him.

Brad’s face was so open, so radiant, and he whispered, “There were more forces at work here than just you- you and I both know how the league is and don’t act like I don’t know about what Julien said, Bergy, I just-”

They kissed, finally, slow and sweet.

“We will work this out,” Brad promised between soft, curious kisses. “It might be hard at first. But this is worth fighting for.”

Patrice couldn’t believe his luck. He smiled through the kisses until he started laughing, kneeling on the floor with his arms full of Brad Marchand. 

“Oh my god, stop,” Brad was cracking up, too. “Stop, I’m not done!” He chased after Patrice’s mouth with his own, and pressed their smiles together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy the conclusion! this is a lot of fic to be born out of a five second video clip and someone else's head canon... big big enormous thanks to @blindbatalex for essentially being the father of this whole thing, and for being a great cheerleader. you can also thank him for literal prince Patrice. 
> 
> rip to all the work I didn't do while writing this but w/e it had to be written

**Author's Note:**

> also I think this is the first mac/donato fic and idk how I feel about that 
> 
> thank you for reading. you can find me on Tumblr [@fridgefishwrites](https://fridgefishwrites.tumblr.com)


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